Life and Times of a Morale Officer
by VisualIDentificationZeta
Summary: SUMMARY: a small insight into the daily life of an OC.


TITLE: Life and Times of a Morale Officer

AUTHOR: VIDZ

DISCLAIMER: Everything you read about in this story is MINE, All Mine! Buahahahaha!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: probably a good place to alert that this story doesn't have much to do with JAG, except that it takes place on the same planet. Don't know (and care) where else to put it though.

Sorry, this doesn't mean I'm getting back to writing. It was just a little something that popped into my mind when reading a truly appalling article on Yahoo News. Please don't ask me to write more on this or continue my other fics, if I find the inspiration to do so I will do it in any case without any support needed. I just hate having to respond to people and tell them I won't write what they want, it always leaves me feeling like I've kicked some poor, defenceless, starving and strengthless puppy.

SUMMARY: a small insight into the daily life of an OC.

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I love my life.

I really do.

You see I work on a passenger ship as a kind of an entertainment/morale officer. I spend my days in effort to keep up the morale of the passengers and the (sadly underpaid) ship staff.

My workday starts by leaving the cabin I share in the ship's unmentionables with my superior after taking care of the morning ablutions. I then make my way slowly up to the top deck, greeting people I meet on the way and hopefully inducing positive reactions.

You see, being polite and, more importantly, pleasant is an essential part of our job. That is, the job of the part of the crew that is charged with looking after our live cargo and not with the running of the ship. You can't be pleasant to the passengers? As they say, here is your worker's book, start finding another job. It's a harsh world we're living in.

Made harsher and more difficult by the passengers. There is an old humorous tale among the passenger-ship crews that the only problem with passenger ships are the passengers.

As you work in my field and gain experience you realise there are certain demographic groups that are best given a wide berth if you can get away with it.

Priests are one of these. You see, we seamen are horribly superstitious and it has been a sailor's belief that having a priest (never mind a group of them) on board brings nothing but bad luck. Truly, the same goes for women, but the latter group is unavoidable with passenger ships AND priests have always been the greater "evil" of the two.

This superstition goes back to the times when only very few women ever stepped on the planks of a ship and the presence of one would sow disquiet and competition among the men who had been out to sea for a long time. Highly unpleasant and unproductive in a collective where every person is essential for the survival of the whole. In regards to men of religion... well, just seeing them was bad enough, nevermind having them onboard. Why? Because having them onboard was a certain omen they would be needed and they were usually needed to give the Last Rites.

Death in such a small and tightly-knit community as a ship's crew had always had a very resounding and personal effect, especially if that dead person was you.

As centuries went by and more and more merchant navies expanded from exploration and moving goods to moving people as well, the wariness towards women disappeared, but the one towards men of the cloth remained. Death is always an unpleasant event, wouldn't you agree?

But to get back to the story, there is one specific group I avoid if at all possible.

Children.

Problematic and trying on a good day they are especially patience-testing onboard ships due to quite a peculiar phenomena. For some mysterious reason parents slacken terribly in their duties, almost as if they believe they no longer have to curb their childrens' behaviour as if that is now the ship staff's duty. Thus the children run wild and do whatever they want until the point they endanger the ship, one of it's parts or can get the shipping line sued for some reason. That is where we, the staff, truly must step in. It is a wholly unpleasant situation all around.

I rather dedicate my attention to passengers capable of... well, concentration. That may mean anything from our senior passengers to people in their 20's.

Young women, often referred to as "College girls" are especially agreeable to my attention. Usually they travel in groups, of at least two, but sometimes more and for some reason I have always been a resounding success with them. As soon as I appear on the sun-tanning deck a few of them gather around me and from that point on I am the center of their attention. Many times they also invite me to have a snack with them that they so kindly provide. Not that I mind, you see.

But "catching the rays" in the company of these delightful young women is not all I do. Sadly. After about an hour in their pleasant la société I make my rounds of the deck, checking everyone is doing fine, that they have no complaints, then make my way slowly, stately, down the promenade deck, avoiding the joggers, back into the ship.

Once passing through the door I have to wait for a few second for my eyes to adjust as it would not do for a member of the ship's staff to have a collission with a passenger. Not with people so lawsuit-happy as they are nowadays. We are one of the few remaining ocean liners, others having been replaced by these ugly and unsafe new monstrosities called "cruise ships", so we must be extra careful in order to remain in business.

It's a cruise-ship eats ocean-liner world out there, you know!

From there I turn in the direction of the kitchens via the dining room, just in time for the "lunch crowd". Many of the passengers lend me at least a look, some even greet me, as I pass them by. A quick call with the kitchen staff and I can finally get to my own, very much deserved, repast. This is one of those few precious moments in my day when I actually have some semblance of peace. Work is forgotten and I can enjoy my food in quiet, while listening through the porthole to the music of the ocean below.

Over the afternoon I meet up with my superior/roommate and we plot new plans to entertain the thousand people on board. It is not an easy task, let me assure you. Ocean liners are not like cruise ships, we are not floating malls and casinos, the majority of our vessel is not taken up by shops, theaters, shops, shops and more shops. What we are is a distinctly romantic way of travelling to a destination, unlike cruise ships where the travel (and passengers spending money in the shops) _is_ the destination.

You may have noticed by now my ambivalence for our competition. You are right, I do not prefer them. Not just because I and my friends lose our livelihoods as ocean liners are replaced by these more profitable ventures, but also because they are a floating symbol of greed, horribly unsafe and truly distastefully vulgar in their kitchy, over-the-top, shiny-glitter ways.

Alas, kindly allow me to get back to my story. As already disclosed we do not have the entertainment facilities of our nemesis' for the reason stated, so we in the morale- and entertainment department have to work harder and be more centralised. I spend the rest of the evening with him as he goes over his plans and serve as a sounding board as he articulates his ideas.

After that comes a leisurely stroll along the promenade deck, enjoying the salty scent of the ocean and the gentle breeze of the summer evening.

I draw it out as long as possible, but the time still inevitably arrives when I must say farewell to the day and retire for the night.

On arrival back to the cabin I immediately repair to my bed in the corner and curl up as my superior turns out the light, my eyes closing even before I stop moving.

Thus ends my normal day.

You say I never introduced myself?

Oh, I must apologise, terribly bad manners of me.

My name is Henry and I am a ship's cat.

THE END

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